faderift | DRAKONIS RIFTER ARRIVAL

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DRAKONIS RIFTER ARRIVAL

WHO: New rifters
WHAT: People fall out of a rift, get attacked, and discover that they are trapped and alone.
WHEN: Drakonis 10
WHERE: A snowy pit.
NOTES: This month, the arrival log is CLOSED to new rifters only. Don't worry, there will be chances for everyone else to meet (and help!) them soon.

I. ARRIVAL

You were asleep—deeply or fitfully, for the last time or just resting your eyes for a moment–and then you were not. And wherever you were was not, anymore, replaced by nothing but the sensation of falling, tumbling into endless, bottomless nothing. If this were still a dream, you would wake before you hit the ground. You can't die in a dream, they say. At least in some worlds.

In this world, you wake with a jolt when you hit the ground, soft for an instant and then bone-jarringly hard. You've landed in a pile of loose snow, beneath which is more snow, frozen solid, and all around you are walls of more snow, tinted by the shifting green gash in the air. There are other people finding their feet after a similarly sprawling arrival, and then emerging from the rift in your wake are a number of hunched, greyish creatures in tattered robes that shuffle about, keeping their distance as they send sharp spikes of ice flying toward you.

They're accompanied by floating beings with too many insect-like arms, and creatures that seem to emerge from the ground like plumes of magma, their fire causing the walls to drip and turning the ground beneath your feet treacherously slick. There is also one giant scarecrow, nearly twenty feet tall, and with giant scalpel blades for arms. It is dressed in a tuxedo, a fine bolo tie, and a cowboy hat, and accompanied by five normal-sized scarecrows in matching suits and hats. Needless to say, they are not friendly either. There are many of you, but even more enemies.

If that all weren't enough there's also a narrow splinter of light in the same sickly green as whatever brought you here, now glowing out of the palm of your left hand. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions, and seems to call your attention back to the rift.

II. TRAPPED

After the first few waves of demons are defeated (there will be no more scarecrows), there will be a lull long enough to regroup and take stock of surroundings. You appear to be at the bottom of a deep crevasse, the walls stretching high above your heads. The space is only about 20 feet wide at its center, but nearly fifty yards long, tapering narrower at the ends, with the rift located near the southern end. There is no exit, no cracks or tunnels leading away, and no hand or footholds in the sheer walls. There are some animal bones scattered about, but no evidence of other living creatures. There is also no evidence of other people, here or above you.

Luckily, the rift has spilled out a great deal of crap along with you and all the demons. There is a gigantic cake several feet tall half-smushed into one wall, its ten tiers delicately decorated all in white fondant, with whorling patterns and flowers made of frosting. Each layer is a different flavor, ranging from the mundane (chocolate, vanilla, carrot) to the bizarre (strawberry & pickle, spicy lemon olive, red velvet mackerel). There are also some actual mackerel, a heap of live fish having spilled through the rift and scattered about the crevasse during the battle, along with bundles of dried (but now soggy) cornstalks.

You can see a narrow patch of sky above and sunlight does filter down to you, for the few hours of the day that there is any sunlight at all. Given the reflection off all the snow and ice, during those daylight hours it is pleasantly bright, though tinted a bit blue (and green by the rift). Unfortunately, daylight only lasts about eight hours, and it is frequently cloudy, which leaves the crevasse dimly lit, as if in a perpetual dusk. At night it will be utterly pitch black except for the rift's eerie glow. It's also very cold, with temperatures remaining below freezing during the day and well below at night.

III. LOST

Whether with magic or creative ice-pick improvisation, scaling the walls of the crevasse is not impossible—but there is minimal reward for the effort. Fully exposed to the wind, it's colder on the surface than in the crevasse, and on the third day there's a whiteout blizzard that reduces visibility to twenty feet for hours. Even when the weather is clear, though, there's not much to see. The land above is a wasteland of ice, snow, and wind, without visible vegetation or landmarks other than monotonous gentle hills. The only disruption to the landscape in any direction is about a hundred yards north of the rift, where spots of color and piles of snow mark what is, on closer inspection, an abandoned camp.

Whoever was there before built low walls out of packed snow to block some of the wind and dug enough snow caves to sleep a dozen people, though a few have since caved in. There's no food—there was food, before, but overturned crates and animal tracks suggest the area is not as devoid of life as it looks—but there are thick fur blankets and sets of boots or outerwear. More than a dozen, in a variety of different sizes. Almost like they were expecting poorly-clothed company.

Maybe someone was coming for you. Maybe they'll be back. Or maybe not.

[ ooc | The rift will continue to spit out demons at semi-regular intervals. After the rifters defeat the first couple waves of demons, the pace of these reinforcements will slow—instead of a few minutes, it may be a few hours until the next batch comes. It is possible for your characters to close the rift themselves, but because they have no idea what they're doing it will require trial and error to figure out how, and all (or near enough) of them working together to succeed. This should take at least two days to manage.

Other than the stuff described in the post and the inventories everyone arrived with (as approved in your apps; please don't suddenly remember some other useful things in your characters' pockets) there is nothing in the crevasse except snow, ice, rock, and animal bones. But don't worry, we promise we're not leaving your characters all to die. Your characters have arrived in the Sunless Lands, and the Inquisition is on its way. When the mod plot post goes up this coming week, it will include a prompt to rescue all of you. Until that time, please refrain from RPing elsewhere in the game and enjoy this exclusive opportunity to bond with your rift-mates.

Your characters will be alone for approximately five days IC. Please keep them from wandering off too far, since that will make it implausible for the Inquisition to find and rescue them and then you won't get to play in the game. If they would insist on trying, you're welcome to use adverse weather, ice collapsing into other caves beneath them, or whatever other natural obstacles necessary to stall their progress. ]

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Alacruun didn't come out of the fight unscathed, much to his chagrin. He'd been caught by one of the shards those creatures had been throwing and there's a nasty-looking cut on one of his arms. He's staunching the blood with one hand, lips pressed together and brow knitted in concentration. Healing magic is not really something he does, so the offer of help isn't dismissed out of hand.

Of course, he's also six-foot-eight of qunari, so reaching up might be a bit of a struggle until he sits down.

"I would appreciate it," he says, "I'm afraid I can't do much for my own injuries."

Wait, does she have something in her coat? Weird.

Let her live, she's only 5'2".

Despite being faced with someone that very much looks like the kind of figure her Yia Yia would point to in paintings and describe as a devil, Alex doesn't let it faze her. Not right now: if they live through this, then she'll start yelling some more about how fucked up this all is.

"Well, step into my office." She gestures to a not totally unsheltered spot, which given their circumstances, isn't as completely underwhelming as it otherwise would be. "Might need you to take a seat, but, so I can get a better look at it."

She is lacking medical supplies, but she has her stethoscope. Not sure how well that'll work out with someone who isn't human or an animal of some kind, but she'll figure it out. "Do you remember what specifically caused it?" She assumes it was during the, you know, battle with monsters.

If he could change his size, he would (for his own purposes, not hers). He seems absolutely nonplussed about all of this. Maybe he's used to this nonsense or maybe he's just silently screaming on the inside about how everything is not going according to plan. Alacruun makes a noise of irritation, although it's also almost something of amusement.

She has spirit.

"Sitting is probably a good idea. I'm not quite sure you could reach..."

So saying, he settles down onto the snow. It's cold in this body and he's not sure he can do much about that. At least not for a good while longer. He gingerly removes his hand to let her get a better look, brow furrowed.

"I believe it was one of those little gray things throwing shards... ice? Was it? I didn't actually notice until after the fight was over."

His erstwhile doctor has some very strange clothing. Or at least he thinks it's strange.

"Adrenaline can be like that." She's got a few scratches she can't quite account for, either.

Reaching for the stranger's arm, she handles it very gently, carefully, as she examines the size of the wound, if there's any signs of inflammation or infection.

Normally her preferred tools to have to hand would be disinfectant, proper materials to patch up that weren't dubious in how clean they are. Granted, they look clean, and preventing risk of blood loss is the priority right now, but it's not the equipment she'd want to use, usually. Her brain is supplying other less helpful information: cold reduces circulation, cold make skin healing more difficult, the bandage can't be so tight as to limit circulation but it also needs to do its job—

She sets it aside. She just has to do what she can. With a smile, she offers: "Sorry, should've said - I'm Alex. I'm gonna take a crack at wrapping this up."

"You may call me Alacruun," is the smooth response. To his credit, he doesn't flinch much when she examines the wound. The cold is a bit of a numbing agent and - well. He's never liked showing weakness, really. So he takes the little twinges of pain. He's fortunate it's not a very deep wound, honestly. The muscle seems to be mostly intact, so it's unlikely to be permanently debilitating.

It's just incredibly inconvenient when they're sitting in an ice-cave in the middle of nowhere.

"Please, proceed. I'm sure you know far more than I do about this sort of thing..."

He'll take advantage of whatever help he can get.

"Nice to meetcha, Alacruun." Aside from, you know, everything about it. Alex pauses, rolls back the sleeves of her coat a bit more, and rubs down her arms and hands with snow. Again, not idea. Doing this too many times could just make her numb and her fingers not too effective, but not having gloves and not washing her hands just feels wrong.

"So, I got a couple questions. First of all: do you have humans wherever you came from, and if yes, do you know if your body works roughly the same way theirs do? Anatomy-wise, anything like that?"

It's a big ask, she realises. In all fairness, a lot of humans back home might know the names of things, without being able to say much at all about what stuff actually does, short of consulting google or wikipedia. "We don't have all the stuff I'd normally use to hand, but I'm gonna take a crack at climbing outta here sometime soon, and maybe if we're lucky we can track down medical supplies to do a better job of cleanin' it."

Alex has a surprisingly sharp mind for someone who's been spat out of a portal and is now attempting to medically treat someone she's never met from a species she's never encountered. Alacruun approves of that, a brow arching slightly as he cranes his neck to get a better look at what she's doing. Unfortunately, he's not sure he can really answer her question to her satisfaction. Not that he's going to let on to that.

"We do have humans where I'm from, as a matter of fact. And I believe that these bodies are similar enough, at least when it comes to this sort of injury, that you don't need to worry too much..."

Not that he knows that for sure, but he's making an educated guess. Good job, Alacruun.

"I appreciate the effort, regardless. Better than letting it fester..."

It's an improvement, at least, on when she tried to throw a fish at the portal.

"Okay, heaps good."

She keeps going back and forth on whether trying to wash the wound down with snow will help - they're far enough from the battle side that there's snow crisp and undisturbed, but while it was enough to wash down her own hands to try and get them a bit cleaner, she has hesitations about it going in an open would, especially when she doesn't have an effective way to hand to heat it up to at least be water. Alex chews the inside of her cheek, but they don't have a lot of time to dwell on it, potentially, and she pulls from her pocket some material she tore down into long strips earlier, and starts to bandage the wound. This, at least, she knows how to do.

"And, hey, things are already weird enough here. Better than finding out some weird lava monster is attracted to the smell of blood, I reckon."

Heaps good. There's one he hasn't heard before. He shakes his head, trying to categorize that particular bit of slang as she carefully begins bandaging the wound. It takes all sorts, he supposes. He's not about to complain about her slang when she's patching him up, in any case.

"That would be unfortunate, wouldn't it? I'd have a whole pack of them on my heels, all trying to cut me in two. Fortunately, I do have my usual repertoire to fall back on, but ideally I'd like to get in a bit of rest before more of them show up. If more of them show up."

He glances at their surroundings with a huff, "Then again, this is the least conducive place to rest that I've ever seen."

Just some fair dink, true blue Strayaisms.

"Let's keep our fingers crossed."

Her focus is primarily on making sure she does a good job of bandaging, but as she continues she asks, "what's your usual repertoire, then? 'Cause, I gotta be honest, I'm not sure my usual repertoire of catching weird things and putting them outside applies real good in this situation."

I mean, for one, they're already outside, but she's more thinking that this is the next level.

"I'm a wizard, typically. Most creatures don't stand up to having lightning bolts set off in their faces..." Alacruun replies with a low laugh. He's not going to admit to much of anything beyond that, at least for now. No point in talking about necromancy when he has no idea how the people around him are going to react. Survival above all else.

"Unfortunately, it doesn't extend to long-distance travel... Teleportation or walking between worlds isn't in my usual bag of tricks."

"Wizard, huh?"

She laughs, despite herself. Internally she's thinking: Wow, this is fucked. There's a lot of things she'd like to be doing right now, which include yelling at the sky and having a melodramatic outburst, but she has a patient. Having a patient is, traditionally, about the only thing that keeps her head screwed on right.

"We do not have magic where I come from. Unless you count like, those really really good movies that make you cry every time. Or like, love cake. That's pretty magical."

Her smile is rueful. "Treating people isn't mine. I'm a veterinarian." A pause, and then hastily, "I've done a lot of first aid courses. Don't worry, I'm good."

No magic? She can't be serious. There's magic almost everywhere. He gives her a blank look, almost pitying. What a poor world it must be to lack even a hint of magic. He supposes they likely don't have dragons then, because dragons have magic in their very bones. Unless she just doesn't understand it-

His train of thought derails slightly and he winces as something twinges in his arm. Bah.

"What is... a 'movie'?" He says the word like it's new to him (because it is). A moment later he follows up with another clarifying question, "Or a 'veterinarian for that matter? Healing is healing, isn't it?"

“Right. Sorry.” Stupid comment. “A movie is a form of entertainment. Sort of like watching a play, except you can stop and start any time you like, and the visuals and sound can be a lot more complex.”

She checks the bandage again, satisfied with her work. It’s a very well done bandage, if she does say so herself. “Healing is healing, but vets specialise in animals. We do surgery and all sorts, but generally I’m gonna know more about how to help out animals than people.”

Animals are better than people, anyway, she thinks but doesn’t say. People suck.

People are horrid. Fortunately, Alacruun is actually a dragon and is thus perfect. Or that's what he'd say, anyway. As it is, he just gives the bandage a quick glance and then nods.

"Thank you, all the same. Even if your normal work has to do with animals and even if you have different forms of entertainment. I can hardly judge. We're stuck in the middle of nowhere together."

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever told me," she says, deadpan, before a faint smile quirks the corner of her mouth.

"Thanks. I'd hate to think people could start judgin' me based on shitty reality tv." Alex pushes up from the ground, and rolls her shoulders. "I reckon we should check that again... keep an eye on how its feeling, if it keeps on bleeding despite the wrapping. I'm cautious about pokin' and prodding at it too much without a way to clean my hands up properly, but better to keep an eye on it. Okay?"

"Of course. Although..." Alacruun pauses and he seems to think on something before a half-amused smile tugs at his lips. More words he doesn't understand and more words he wants to know about.

"What is 'reality TV'? Reality I understand quite well, but 'tee-vee' doesn't sound like anything that's known to me."

He's just full of questions, apparently.

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DRAKONIS RIFTER ARRIVAL

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